by Gian Bordin
He did not have the strength to run. While walking, she kept out a constant vigil for any emanations from the savages, but they remained strangely silent. She was sure that no party was after them. She had killed two of their leaders, so they would be in considerable confusion for several days until a new one had asserted himself.
Atun was silent, only nodding or shaking his head in answer to her questions, never meeting her eyes. When she stood still, he stood still; when she resumed walking, so did he. He acted like being on automatic pilot. She tried to reach him, lift his spirits, give him strength — something she had never done before — but she could feel that he was almost beyond reacting, in severe shock, and she also suspected that he was concussed, judging from the bulging swelling at the back of his head. She would have to deal with his state of mind once they were back in the cave. Right now her only worry was to get him safely back there, hoping that his strength would not desert him before then. Since he was emotionally beyond her reach, all she could do was to monitor him, making sure that he would not faint on her.
She also knew that she needed to treat his many wounds before they infected beyond the healing power of her herbal plants. Whenever they passed by swampy areas, she was on the lookout for the disinfectant plant the root of which exuded the scab-forming gum. With the many jab wounds all over his body, she needed quite a few of them.
Getting him up to the cave was a major struggle. He was unable to jump to reach the rope. So she first had to climb up and lower it some more. Then she got him started, staying right below him, giving him additional support for his feet, letting him stand on her shoulders when his strength threatened to fail him and he needed to rest.
6
Struggling up that rope sapped the last bit of energy Atun could muster. He sank to the floor and would have remained there if Yuen-mong had not carried him to his sleeping alcove. He was shivering from exhaustion; his whole body felt on fire; worst of all, he was loathing himself. All he wanted to do was to close his eyes, never to wake up, never having to face Yuen-mong again.
She covered him, and he heard her get water to the boil. He did not know how long he had been floating in and out of consciousness, when she raised his upper body and put a cup to his mouth.
"Small sips … swallow."
He swallowed. It tasted bittersweet. It seemed to have a soothing effect. A short time later she removed the cover and carefully cleaned every nick on his face, arms, chest, stomach and legs with the crushed green tops of the swamp root. It stung. He did not even have the strength to wince, keeping his eyes closed, letting it happen. He did not protest when she took his penis into her palm and cleaned a small festering wound there. Then she again dabbed each nick with the scab-forming milk of the swamp root. He must have fallen asleep while she did this. When he woke, most of the pain on his body had gone, only his head still hurt.
She made him sit up, putting another cup of the bittersweet liquid into his hand, saying: "Drink, and stay sitting while I clean your back."
He felt that he was getting drowsy and that even the pulsating pain on the back of his head diminished. He vaguely registered her pushing him down gently and feeling the cover lightly hug his body before sleep wiped consciousness.
The first light of dawn entering the cave found him awake. He had a vague memory of having been haunted by nightmares and that somebody had held him in her arms, while humming a soothing melody. At the time he had thought it was his mother. He also remembered being helped by Yuen-mong to empty his bladder. The throbbing pain on the back of his head had returned, not as intense as before, but constantly demanding his attention, although he did not feel as feverish anymore.
He was just wondering whether Yuen-mong was still asleep, when he became aware of her kneeling next to him, offering him a cup.
"Drink. This will ease your headache a bit," she said.
How had she known? And then he remembered that she was an empath. He raised himself and eagerly drank the liquid.
"Small sips," she reminded him. "Are you hungry?"
He nodded. She went over to the cooking area and a moment later brought him a bowl of spiced hot mash containing small pieces of smoked meat. He did not need to be reminded to eat slowly and chew well. After eating she ordered him to lie down again.
As he lay there, he wondered whether he would ever find the courage to look her in the eyes again. She must utterly despise him, the way he despised himself. And she had not even rebuked him. All she had said was "you silly man," like you would talk to a small child who reached for the flame of a candle, trying to take it away. She must see him as a helpless, useless fool. He wished he could wipe his slate clean and start over again. Would he ever be able to redeem himself in her eyes?
But how could he? She was so superior to him. She surpassed him in everything he could think of: courage, strength, stamina, willpower, wisdom, intelligence, cunning. There was nothing he could offer her. He was only a burden, a fool who did not learn, who did not listen. He saw again her sparkling blue eyes when she had teased the echo on top of that ridge — was that only two days ago? That beautiful angry face when he had called her stupid. Her fearless stance, like a supernatural apparition, keeping two score savages in check. He wanted so badly that she liked him, that she respected him. It was a yearning that was new, that he had never experienced. To be liked by a woman … no, to be liked by that woman who was out of his reach. Was this what they called love?
Where is she? He looked around the cave, the balcony. Maybe she was on top of the rock, where she took refuge to be away from him. He lay down again, wishing that she were near, that he could hear her puttering around, watch her. He must have fallen asleep, and she was still not there when he woke. He felt a mild flutter of anxiety. She is fine, he tried to convince himself, but it did not help. What if something happened to her? But he would be of no help anyway. So far he had only been a burden and he sank into a new wave of self-loathing.
He did not remember how long he had been lying there, when he felt a cool hand on his forehead, and opened his eyes, meeting hers before he looked away.
"The fever is gone. Here, have another cup of tea. It will numb the pain," she said and helped him raise himself.
He remembered taking small sips. When he had finished, she said: "Lie down again. I want to check if any of the wounds are infected."
She uncovered him, and he felt embarrassed being naked. She checked each scab briefly. "They are healing well." She covered him up again. "Tomorrow you will be able to get up and spend some time on the balcony. I will soon bring you some food. I know, you do not feel like eating, but you need to restore your strength."
He said nothing and did not think that she expected an answer. He watched her put more wood into the hearth and then blow fire into the coals. While a pot of water was heating, she prepared spiced patties of timoru mash. When the water was boiling, she added bark to make bark tea. He had developed a taste for its tart flavor. Next, she baked the patties to make flat breads.
He liked to watch her. Her movements were flowing, graceful. There was no tentativeness. She worked efficiently, no effort wasted. Occasionally, she hummed softly. At one point, she briefly looked at him, and he felt caught, looking away.
She smiled and said: "It is OK, Atun. I don’t mind being watched."
He blushed that she had read is mind, but loved it that she called him by name. Rather than pronounce it ‘Atn’, as most people did, she gave equal weight to each syllable, dropping the pitch for the second, like when she had called the echo. It sounded melodious. His eyes were irresistibly drawn back to her.
When the food was ready, she again helped him sit and brought a wooden platter with a bread, topped with thin slices of fresh fish, she must have caught and marinaded earlier, and cut green leaves of swamp spinach, as well as a cup of bark tea. She sat on the floor while he ate. After a while, she said: "Atun, we must talk."
She waited to get his full attention. He forced himse
lf to meet her eyes.
"I know you blame yourself for what happened, but it is no use to dwell on things that you cannot change anymore. Such thoughts only steal your energy, and to survive on Aros, you need every bit of it. All you can do is to learn from it. If it was bad, not to fall into the same trap again. If it was a missed opportunity, to be ready to grab the next one when it comes along."
She locked eyes with him, as if she tried to read whether he understood. He did not know how to react to these unexpected words. His whole mind was in turmoil. Then she added with a smile: "And you are no fun if you are morose."
He wanted to tell her how sorry he was, felt the tears rush into his eyes, tried to blink them away. He did not want to humiliate himself by crying in front of her.
She touched his left arm briefly and said: "It is OK to cry. There is no shame in it." She got up and went back to the kitchen area.
"Yuen-mong, please forgive me," he murmured.
She briefly looked over her shoulder, smiling, and replied: "Atun, I have."
She prepared herself some food and drink and went out onto the balcony. When she was finished, she returned, picked up his tray and cup. "Do you want another drink?"
He nodded, not sure of his voice. She filled his cup, and he took it.
"There is another thing I want to ask you, Atun." There was a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. "My mother taught me that it is nice to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. I don’t know whether this custom is followed on Palo, but I would like you to do it with me."
He blushed deeply and lowered his gaze, murmuring. "I’m sorry, Yuen-mong. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for all you’ve done for me… I owe you my life several times and will never be able to repay you."
"I do not ask for that. That too is part of the past that cannot be changed. It is also nice to say please and thank you for small things, like asking for or receiving a cup of tea … And now, lie down, give your mind the long-needed rest. Sleep is the best remedy for a speedy recovery… I have plans for you."
She quickly cleaned the dishes and cups they had used and then took the flute and disappeared from the cave. She is again fleeing from me, were his thoughts. How could he really believe that she had no bad feelings against him, that she did not despise him? Such magnanimity was not human. But then she was more than human, and as far as he could remember she had never said anything that she did not mean, even if he had often failed to listen. Nor did to forgive mean to forget.
* * *
Yuen-mong knew that Atun had fallen in love with her. It did not raise any serious concerns. In his current mental state, he would not dare to voice it. It would only make him more amenable, pay more attention to what she said, make him more willing to follow her wishes. From her reading of his mind, she also knew that he would not act on his love or try to make sexual advances, nor did she fear that. She would easily be able to handle him.
Her mother had told her how she and her father had fallen in love with each other and that she had gone against the express and strong wishes of her father, who had wanted her to join in union with one of the powerful families on Andromatis to cement mutual ties. Will I ever fall in love? Her mother had said it happened by itself, whether one wanted it or not, and for some, it never happened.
Next morning, she helped Atun to shower and she soaped his back. She brought out some of her father’s clothing, a loose shirt and loose pants, also made of craw wing leather. They fitted reasonably well. After breakfast, she enticed him out onto the balcony, spreading his sleeping pad out there to make it softer.
She joined him, mending her clothing. The tight pants she had worn to go into the mountains had suffered and the seams were fraying at several places, needing strips to be inserted. It felt strange to have her every move watched, but occasionally she met his gaze with a smile. He seemed to be in better spirits and did not avert his eyes every time she looked at him. Maybe the talk yesterday had helped at bit, although she realized that it would take quite a while before he gained back his confidence and self-esteem. She did not mind if his cockiness and feeling of superiority would never return.
"Have you given the idea of converting your shuttle to manual control any more thought?" she asked him after a while.
"No."
"Do you think that the various mechanisms that activate the propulsion and steering thrusters could, in fact, be operated manually?"
"How?"
"How are they operated now?"
"Microprocessors controlled by the AI unit activate the pressure pumps and ignite the fuel mix."
"Could the microprocessors not be bypassed and the pumps activated manually … by switches, like the one that turns the power on or off?"
He thought about this for a few moments. "I guess with the right equipment and tools that could be done. But that doesn’t mean, a person would be capable of coordinating them and manage to fly. The AI unit controls much of it alone by feedback, without the pilot even being aware of it. All these often minute adjustments would have to be done by the pilot. It looks impossible to me. The surest way to get killed."
"Many things look impossible before they have been done," she replied with a smile.
"Yes, I know." He lowered his gaze, blushing, and then added in a murmur: "Like my rescue from the middle of the savages’ camp."
"I am sure that worked because it looked so utterly impossible."
Surprised by this remark, he briefly raised his gaze and responded to her smile.
"So maybe we could learn to fly the shuttle manually."
"Are you serious about this?" He sounded alarmed.
"Yes, I am. It is our only chance to get off this planet."
"But it would be useless unless there’s a space craft up there waiting to pick us up, and what’s more we have the ability to communicate with it, to let them know where we are."
"Sure. But Atun, you did not think that I just wanted to go on … what did you call that? … a joyride?" She chuckled, pleased to remember that word he had once used.
"But my mother ship has left days ago."
"There is a fully operational space craft up there," she continued. "My parents parked theirs before they tried to take samples from the ring." When she saw his frown, she added: "It is parked just above the ring, orbiting Aros like all the rocks and dust of the ring. My father thought that the probability was practically nil that anybody else would discover it, unless they were systematically searching for it. So there is a good chance that it is still up there … waiting for us." She smiled again as she said these last three words.
For the first time, his eyes lit up.
"May parents named it ‘Vishnu’. I think it is the name of a deity once worshiped on Old Earth."
"But will it still be operational after twenty years?"
"Yes, my father said that they left it there on automatic control using only solar power and that it could last for centuries."
"Did he tell you what class ship it is?"
"Yes. Vishnu is a PA4 class. Do you know what that is?"
"They were once the most advanced small space craft, mainly used for private purposes. I heard that they are quite fast and have an excellent range."
"Would you know how to fly it?"
"I guess yes. Most functions are automatic. But how would we be able to gain access?"
"I know the access code."
"To be transmitted electronically from the shuttle? But we have no workable AI unit."
"Once we are outside the magnetic field, it should be possible to reprogram the shuttle’s AI unit so that we can transmit the access code, and that is where you come in." She could sense the increase in his heart rate.
"You’re really serious about this?"
"Yes. I know there are risks, but I believe they are worth taking."
"And you would trust me, Yuen-mong? After all that has happened?"
"Do I have a choice? Did you not say that you could have taught my father some elect
ronics? Here is your chance."
"I said many things I shouldn’t have said," he murmured, looking away.
"Atun, I will hold you to this one."
He met her eyes again. She could sense his gratefulness. "If the AI unit has not been damaged, I think I should be able to do it… Your father thought that the magnetic field only disabled the working of the AI unit and did not damage it, am I right?"
"Yes, I recall the way he put it so I could understand when I was a child was that the electrons get confused and any active memory is wiped the moment it is exposed to the magnetic field. That is why I knew the laser gun would not work."
He looked embarrassed about that reminder. "But once outside, the hardwired modules should again work and the memory becomes usable again. Is this what he thought?"
"I think so."
"And any external memory cubes should still be OK?"
"Yes."
"So if there are systems backup cubes in the shuttle, I should be able to get the AI unit working again, and we can then gain access to that ship provided it is still up there… You don’t know the coordinates of the ship’s orbit?"
"No. Can we not search for it?"
"If we’ve a working AI unit, yes. We would get into an orbit above the ring. The trouble is that even that’s difficult without an AI unit. I don’t even know how much fuel is left. I guess it’s enough to get into orbit, although I wasn’t supposed to land on Aros. It’s therefore essential that we use as little fuel as possible and that needs exact timing for cutting off the main engine. We don’t even have a timing device and counting the seconds in our head for several minutes is not accurate enough."
"Timing device? You mean a watch?" Her father’s antique should do.
He nodded.
She quickly went to one of the niches where she stored various things and retrieved a spring driven watch. While coming back, she wound it, checked that it still worked, and handed it to Atun. "This is an antique watch that has been handed down in my father’s family from father to oldest son for generations. He claimed that it was the kind of pocket watch men used on Old Earth in the 19th century. I think it was one of his most cherished possessions."